


Magical To You

by fandomfairytales



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Belonging, Draco Malfoy being an amazing friend, Draco Malfoy is a Good Boyfriend, F/M, Fluffy, Fluffy Ending, Friends to Lovers, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Pining, Reconciliation, Romance, WHAT HAPPENED TO ME, and a mother hen, can't believe i didn't write smut, dream team Granger-Malfoy, he would just be so supportive okay, the tiniest bit of angst, these two are so in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-25
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-12-07 12:52:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18235160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandomfairytales/pseuds/fandomfairytales
Summary: based on the Nikita Gill poem/prompt: she would rather be magical to you, than belong to you.Follows Draco coming to understand such a concept and how it applies to one Hermione Granger."Hermione was in his kitchen, her cheeks rosy, the heat of the ovens toasting the air, humming along with the house elves as they worked; Completely out of her element and making herself at home at the breakfast bar, she was an utter paradox, all Draco could do was stare. It would have been less surprising to find a unicorn or some other rare magical creature there… Later, he would wonder if perhaps she was one, in a class all her own."





	Magical To You

**Author's Note:**

> phew, this one was just a struggle to get done, what a rush job (oh dear) I had a thousand ideas and vetoed nine hundred and ninety-nine of them (mostly because they were too damn long haha). 
> 
> I'm also posting this in the middle of buttf*** nowhere, from the back seat of my car on my way home from Sydney; because someone forgot to plan ahead for the deadline ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> I hope I've managed to capture the spirit of this, it was kind of a difficult one to get right and I am after all a romance writer ( I'm far too much of an optimist to angst, sorry guys). 
> 
> enjoy xo (will edit tomorrow with the aesthetic)

 

oOo

The first time Draco Malfoy saw Hermione Granger after the war was in the most unexpected of places.

In his house no less.

Though he supposed it was rather more than a house. Small castle maybe; either way, the Malfoys never inherited subtlety as a family trait.

She was in the kitchen, her cheeks rosy, the heat of the ovens toasting the air, humming along with the house elves as they worked; Completely out of her element and making herself at home at the breakfast bar, she was an utter paradox, all Draco could do was stare. It would have been less surprising to find a unicorn or some other rare magical creature there… Later, he would wonder if perhaps she was one, in a class all her own.

At first, he considered turning tail and running back to his room like a terrified little boy, but not wanting to appear fainthearted, he steeled his resolve, rolled his tensing shoulders and ventured in, trying to look like the man he had been forced to become far too soon.

Then he went and ruined it all by snatching up an apple, only to have his former nanny, Milly, shamelessly scold him mid-bite for spoiling his dinner. He’d never blushed so hard in his life, stammering and stuttering his way through a sheepish apology, trying not to peek at the nonchalant, enigma of a woman across from him.

He supposed he ought to be thankful, that moment humanised him enough for Hermione to decide striking up a friendship was a good idea. It took him three months to understand and come to terms with the fact someone like her, with their history, could just decide to let go like that; not to mention she was incredibly persistent when she set her mind to something, badgering was something of a talent and he liked to joke that Hufflepuff’s mascot was apt for her on that basis (she would simply roll her eyes and wittily imply he was a hypocrite).

Wonder who else shared such a trait.

By the time they started at the Ministry together, interning in the Legal department, he was deeply enamoured with her, though he certainly wasn’t the only one.

His mother had been the first to succumb to her charms, months before she appeared in the Manor’s kitchen, Hermione had inexplicably struck up a friendship with Narcissa, after a chance meeting in Flourish and Blotts. Apparently, they went for the same book and the rest was history.

Blaise, Theo and Pansy had all taken to her (eventually; three guesses who took the longest to crumble and admit they liked having Hermione around).

Even the bloody peacocks liked her. Although, that likely had a lot to do with the fact she snuck them treats whenever she joined Narcissa for tea and a jaunt around the library. Draco still got their customary ‘greeting nip’ whenever he chanced upon one in the garden.

But of all the people in her orbit, she seemed to gravitate toward him the most. It was strange having someone like her care for him. Platonically, it was more than he had ever really had. Crabbe and Goyle had always been lackeys, and the other Slytherins were much too proud to let themselves be transparent with one another; they were all still works in progress, but they were getting better and Hermione for all the difficulties they presented, was patient on a saintly level.

Romantically, however, was a completely different matter.

She stirred something in him that he had assumed long extinct; killed by the expectation status placed upon him and by his own pragmatism. Regrettably, that same cold logic couldn’t save him from his feelings or the fact she was decidedly unavailable and off limits. So as they journeyed down the path of friendship, he kept those pesky thoughts carefully locked away in the back of his mind, where no one would find them.

However, he was prone to some occasional leakage. Okay, more often than not, he caught himself admiring her; forced to tear his eyes away before she discovered him looking, but it was in those moments he came to truly know her, in the seconds before he had to pretend that he wasn’t staring, he would catch glimpses of what lay beneath her public veneer.

That was the girl he fell for, the one no one looked closely enough to see.

 

oOo

The third time Draco Malfoy saw Ron Weasley after the war was, unfortunately, under rather poor circumstances. The polar opposite of his first ‘wild Granger’ sighting almost a year and a half before.

Far too wrapped up in his budding friendship with one-third of the golden trio, he never once stopped to consider the others might not be so accepting of him or his newfound status as her friend.

Despite the leaps and bounds he’d made with Hermione, and at least two failed attempts at armistice, her boyfriend remained staunchly against any and every former Slytherin. After that, he noticed she was pointedly quiet regarding that rather large part of her life; closed off and not quite so willing to mention them. He understood, if anyone had anything to lose by associating with him, it was her, and with little to offer in shared history or compensation, he never said a word about the change.

Eventually, Potter managed to behave somewhat reasonably and was willing to listen to the tale on the other side of the coin; with the added benefit of quidditch to grease the conversation, they were hesitantly becoming what one might refer to as mates (if that person was a scar-faced, peasant that is).

Weasley however, was stubborn as a mule. A trait that was presently causing Hermione a few additional issues aside from the ones they shared.

It was commonplace to find young couples out for tea in Diagon Alley, this particular night saw the most famous of them attempting to keep their own well-established argument at a reasonably hushed level, in the middle of Giovanni’s no less.

While he wasn’t entirely opposed to sticking his nose where it didn’t belong, he preferred to keep to his boundaries with her. Both out of respect and a desire to remain on Hermione’s good side.

Despite his choice, he still had a reservation and fate would see him seated at the table behind theirs, awaiting his mother’s arrival. The opportunity to eavesdrop fell into his lap more tidily than his napkin.

“Ronald, I really don’t think this is the time or the place.”

She eyed him as he took his seat and all he could offer was an apologetic look. Frankly, he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear this either.

When she continued, her voice was strained, words and tone clipped while she fought to keep her dynamics low.

“What the bloody hell is the Ferret doing here?”

Weasel didn’t seem as concerned, blurting his sentence out plainly, with little thought

“How should I know? It really has nothing to do with the matter at hand…”

“Oh, of course, let’s just go back to discussing the fact you want to run away from commitment, _again_.”

“I didn’t say that- I just… urgh—” she dropped her head into her hands, shaking with frustration “–You’re making this more difficult than it needs to be.”

“What’s so difficult about it? I asked you to marry me and you said you wanted to go home.”

“I didn’t—I told you I wasn’t ready, not because I was saying no, Ron.”

“Then it’s a yes? Problem solved.”

He reached for her hand, but Hermione yanked it back before he could slip the gaudy looking ring on.

“No! Not _‘problem solved’_ ”

She hissed back venomously, and Draco felt pride rise in his chest at her mocking undertone.

“Then what’s your answer? Because I’m so sick of all the speculating because we aren’t married yet; all the trouble in paradise shite. Is the golden couple on the rocks? Hermione and Krum look cosy, don’t they? Two years and no wedding bells, it’s no wonder she’s looking for better prospects, why settle… Blah, blah blah, by Rita Skeeter. I keep waiting around for you to catch up and I want to know if I’m just wasting my time?”

“Excuse me?!”

A pang of worry cut through the building tension when she interjected, Draco caught sight of the fury burning in Hermione’s eyes and almost flinched himself. Weasel was heading for a hexing if he kept it up; not that he wouldn’t like to see that, however, Hermione was well known for being a little vicious when sufficiently ticked, his broken nose third year proved that.

“You proposed because the papers think you should? Because Rita Fucking Skeeter told you to?”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

“No, tell me what you _really_ think Ron, please.”

“Fine. I want to make it clear you’re mine.”

Draco sank into his seat, waiting for the inevitable explosion. It hurt to see her recognise how loveless Weaselbee’s declaration sounded.

“Yours? Like I’m some _thing_ you can possess?”

His cold stare and lack of reply told Draco everything he needed to know; his heart sank on her behalf, regardless of his feelings toward her partner, watching her relationship crumble was an unpleasant experience.

The shrill scrape of her chair pushing back, recalled his attention as she stood, swiped at her tears and promptly fled.

Draco was up and following her out in seconds, shooting a passing glare at Weasley on his way.

If he’d just kept his mouth shut, it might not have escalated.

Draco had never been the type to engage physically, he preferred to make use of his sharp tongue, cutting people down verbally was his strong suit. Hearing the Weasel mutter ‘death eater scum’ under his breath wasn’t enough to provoke him, suggesting Draco was only going to comfort her because he wanted to get into her pants was enough to warrant use of his wit, even though he didn’t much care what the ginger idiot said about his motives; but the second he insulted Hermione, all bets were off.

Weasley was yanked up and out of his seat before he could utter another spiteful word, his collar caught in Draco’s white-knuckled grip.

“If you ever disrespect her like that again, I will not hesitate to show you _exactly_ what the dark lord taught me.”

When he let go, straightening Weasley’s ostentatiously patterned tie with a menacingly polite smile, he could see the fear lingering in his eyes. It sparked satisfaction seeing belief when he knew the truth; Draco was a different man, not above a mild hexing or a prank, but certainly unwilling to resort to causing actual harm. He’d hated it before, and he was vehemently against it now.

When he found Hermione, she was tucked away in the nearest alley, eyes brimming with tears while she searched for her wand in that ridiculous beaded purse of hers. Using a wandless accio clearly hadn’t occurred to her in her state.

“I’m sorry you had to see all that.” She sniffled.

“Don’t be.”

He reached for his handkerchief, making use of the fact he was raised to observe the fading traditions of a more gentlemanly age. He offered it to her with what he hoped looked like a reassuring smile.

“I know I overreacted.”

“I certainly didn’t see it that way.”

“You didn’t?”

“Of course not. Sounded to me like he told you he proposed for the sake of it, because he felt pressured to, it sounded like obligation. If I were you, I’d be furious.”

She gave him a watery half-smile and he completely lost his train of thought. Blotchy, flushed and bedraggled as she was, Hermione was still the most disarmingly beautiful woman.

“Come on, I’ll take you home.”

He held out his hand and tried not to outwardly show his surprise when she tucked herself into his side, curling her hands around his arm with a grip to rival a python. He apparated them to her building, expecting to be sent home with a curt ‘I’m fine,’ and almost fainted when she invited him up.

She dragged him inside with her, refusing to let go and he could hardly stop his heart racing; They walked up the stairs in tandem and he voiced his customary complaint about the lack of elevator, prompting her to tease him about needing the exercise (which she quickly retracted when he caught her mid-trip a moment later, a result of laughing too hard at her own joke).

Once they were inside, away from (possible) prying eyes, he realised she was distracting herself. Not that he was offended, it hurt to see the pain reflecting in her eyes as she busied herself making tea; Pottering about the kitchen in a detached daze.

He intervened when she grabbed the salt instead of sugar. Holding her hand over the container, time rippled around them, slowing to an almost painful standstill.

And then it was over; he took his tea, she sat across from him and he let her vent her frustrations; all night in fact.

When the Weasel came knocking the following morning, begging to have her back, she scoffed through the door, his pleas sounding like more of the same, and passed him a shrunken box with his things.

She had decided she would not count herself among his possessions. As her friend, he couldn’t approve of her reasoning more. Hermione Granger was above belonging to anyone.

He let himself out after he witnessed her sigh of relief, shoulders sagging as she said goodnight (and then corrected herself to morning) and dragged herself off to bed.

The second auror training ended, he was outside her door with an assortment of her favourite snacks and sweets (and a couple of muggle films he would never admit to liking).

It made his day to see her smile at the sight of him, laden with bags of takeout and clinking bottles of wine.

“You know it sucked not having you as my duelling partner.”

“Aw, did you miss me at training today?”

“You have no idea. They stuck me with Seamus.”

“You know, I figured that…”

“How?”

“You have a smudge of dirt on your nose. Right there.”  
“Don’t you smirk at me, you have no idea how many cleaning charms I had to use to get the soot out of my hair.”

He swiped at it immediately with a frustrated growl, she giggled and like a switch had flicked, turned sombre.

“Was it something I said?”

“No, no… I wasn’t you, I just remembered something.”

The crestfallen look on her face told him it was likely something to do with the ginger git she had just dumped. With little else to be done for the sudden downturn, he pulled her into a tight hug and resolved to hold on for as long as she’d let him. He counted down to gauge it and gave up after a full two minutes passed by. It was still going and it wouldn’t be long enough.

It didn’t feel like a chore in the least.

She was warm (perhaps even too warm, but it offset his cooler temperature perfectly), her flannel pyjamas and fluffy dressing gown radiated heat that reached right down to his bones. Her hair tickling his skin was soft and fragrant, so much so, he could practically taste coconut; and her body moulded against his felt so profoundly right, he had to talk himself out of keeping her trapped there for all eternity.

He was pathetically grateful she didn’t pull away to speak.

“So, this whole thermodynamic equilibrium thing is nice…”

“Mmh quite; so long as you don’t get any warmer, or I’m likely to melt.”

“Well, we can’t have that.” She nuzzled closer “Can’t hug you if you’re a pale, puddle of sarcasm on the floor, I’d much prefer you this way.”

“Me too, I mean… I like this, hugging; I don’t have to feel guilty about it anymore.”

She chuckled wryly and for a moment he wondered if she understood how deeply he meant it. Weasley’s comment had stuck with him, forcing Draco to recall every recent instance of affection he’d shared with Hermione and examine it with a close eye. The fact he’d vehemently avoided any public shows of fondness proved how affected he was by such thoughts and fears. He was constantly and acutely aware of it.

It was nice to feel free to express his concern and care in a physical way.

“If I could tell your guilt to fuck off, I would.” She squeezed his waist tighter, to his delight and he couldn’t help smiling down at her. “I’ve been deprived because of it and that’s a travesty I plan to remedy.”

He went home that night with a spring in his step, a flutter in his chest and a dreamy, goofy smile plastered across his face. Having spent the night curled up with her or touching in some form or other until she was finally tuckered out and ready for bed.

 

oOo

He’d be back tomorrow, and the next day, and every day until she told him she was sick of the sight of him. He’d be there long after her heart healed, maybe he would even be a contributing factor in it happening faster than she thought possible; and when enough time passed, maybe she would even realise that he loved her, wholly and without conditions or codicils, without sense or reservations, or a care for the drivel Rita Skeeter had to say about them in the paper.

oOo

Years later, well after he botched his own proposal, nerves getting in the way of his usual eloquence he came to understand why Hermione had turned down her first marriage offer.

It was the same day he saw Hermione Granger for the last time, for the best of reasons.

Hermione wasn’t a woman to let herself be owned by anybody, but she did want the magic of belonging _with_ somebody. A confusing concept, but one he came to comprehend on their wedding day.

He’d left it to her to decide her name, her title (he’d even suggested taking hers instead, but apparently ‘Draco Granger’ sounded too ridiculous for her to take the idea seriously); it was in things like this he knew to let her accept (or refuse) what she wanted, never pushing, forcing or asking; instead letting her decide on her terms, in her time.

He figured out the secret to loving a woman like her years ago, taking pointers from a failed suitor turned friend; let her be herself.

The difference between him and his former rival was that he was willing to stand back and let her shine. He didn’t leech off her light or syphon her prestige for his own agenda; Draco made it his life’s mission to support her, to be part of a strong foundation she could build her dreams and achievements upon. She loved him because he was one of few people not trying to take her apart, change her or break her down into simpler pieces; because even at her most problematic and difficult, he still looked at her like she had hung the stars.

His reward at the end of it all was seeing her succeed and being there at the finish line, in the wings or the shadows ready to offer her a kiss (or a shoulder to cry on, depending on how things worked out).

Correction; his reward was earning the privilege of watching her walk down the aisle, smiling widely at his complete and utter disbelief in his luck.

He was so lost in his admiration of his very soon to be wife, he wasn’t paying close enough attention to the pronouncement of Man and Wife. However, a decent snog right after the vows was not the best way to keep a groom’s attention on the proceedings, he was altogether too focused on kissing the daylights out of his bride.

Seconds before entering their reception, he found out her choice. True to their relationship and in response to his ambivalent, uncertain reply to her question ‘what did you think of my choice?’ she decided to make him sweat for hilarity’s sake; telling Theo, their emcee, to announce them as Mr. and Mrs. Gralfoy.

Fortunately, that wasn’t their new, amalgamated married name; but he was undeniably glad to greet their applauding friends with a lovely little hyphen between their last names.

That was the lesson you see; it wasn’t ownership, the trick to loving and being loved by Hermione Granger-Malfoy was equality.

 

oOo

**Author's Note:**

> If you've enjoyed this please feel free to let me know; comments, kudos and feedback are super duper appreciated; also getting to chat to you lovely people just makes my entire week :)
> 
> I also have a [Tumblr](http://emilythenotsostrange.tumblr.com/) where you can find posts with my other tales and aesthetics if you'd like to check it out :) 
> 
> xo - Em


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